Time Twister
by Kath
Summary: Professor Nick Cutter wants things back the way they were. And now we continue...with Time Twister; Redux
1. Chapter 1

Fandom: Primeval

Author; Kath

Title; Time Twister

Disclaimer; Recognisable characters and the universe they inhabit, belong to Impossible Pictures

A/N; Well, who would have thought it? Back writing after four years! Enjoy!

Spoilers; Some from what we've seen so far in Primeval Series 1&2. That is; 'Anomalies' leading to various eras (including the future) are showing up in the present day. A dedicated team of scientists, helped and hindered by the Home Office, are charged with investigating the anomalies and dealing with the consequences. As this story begins, Professor Nick Cutter has returned from the prehistoric past to discover his reality has been altered...

"_Where's Claudia?" There was desperation in his eyes, in his voice, in every fibre of his being. "Where's Claudia? Your assistant, Claudia?" Some blank stares, some wary. Not even the memory of his best friend's betrayal, at that moment, had mattered._

_But it mattered now._

They had done the manly thing. Saved each other's lives in the heat of battle against the backdrop of a bowling alley. A bowling alley! Sometimes Cutter wondered if the rampaging beasties that came through the anomalies were as frightened and confused at their new surroundings as the inhabitants were at seeing them.

And Stephen, Stephen had actually thought that Cutter would leave him to die. Had Stephen really changed that much?

A week was a long time in the Anomaly Project. A week ago Cutter would have trusted Stephen Hart to the ends of the earth and the beginnings of time, and he would have said that Stephen would do the same with him. And now Helen's spiteful revelation had Cutter questioning every part of their friendship.

No one to talk to about this, no one to confide in.

Ironic really. Any time he and Stephen disagreed, Claudia would be the first to play the peacemaker between them. And when he and Claudia began to care for each other, it was Stephen who had understood. How could he have done that without betraying the massive secret he held? How could Stephen not have slipped up once in their friendship? There had been plenty of opportunities, drunk and sober, to confess. And not once had he done so, not once. The two people Cutter cared most about were gone from his life, just like that, in a blink. The two most important people. And neither of them was his wife...

"Sorry, Professor! Didn't realise you were still here!"

The door banging against the wall as a typically exuberant Connor Temple entered broke his concentration. But Cutter had to smile; at least one person in this tangled mess was still a known element.

"No problem, Conner, I was just leaving." Cutter scooped up his jacket and headed for the door.

Cutter walked through the unfamiliar corridors, sticking to the main routes, finding the central lift, and riding down to the lobby.

A dedicated, pristine, centre. This _reality_, for want of a better word, certainly took the anomalies seriously; not that his own reality didn't; it was just, this one seemed far in advance of the game. And Cutter had to wonder why that was. Had something happened here? Obviously the anomalies were not yet public knowledge, but this facility had so much more scope for research and experimentation...

Cutter paused to take a deep breath of air as soon as he stepped out the doors. He glanced back and gave a brief salute to the security guard on duty, then stepped away to gaze up at the towering structure above him.

It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. Stephen had slept with his wife, might even have had an affair! Claudia didn't exist! Lester was... well actually, Lester was just as he had ever been, and that was still wrong.

Something they had done had changed the normal, no, his, course of time.

It wasn't Ryan; he had died as he was supposed to.

Cutter bowed his head as he remembered Ryan's realisation that he was going to die. Would Ryan have tried to survive, with every painful breath, every shattered bone, if the knowledge of the skeleton had not intruded? Cutter shook his head in denial; no, Ryan's wounds were too extensive, he could not possibly have survived his injuries.

And he himself had returned immediately. He had not strayed from the trail; he had left the camp as it was supposed to be.

And Helen had stepped through the anomaly, only a few seconds behind him.

No chance to change things. No time.

Time?

Time.

He had left Helen alone. He had rejected her, again. And her revenge was to inform him of her affair with his best friend.

Stephen had never, ever, once, even hinted that there was something between himself and Cutter's wife. That was not so surprising. But what Cutter kept coming back to was that Stephen was not that good a liar. There would have been something; a stray look, a shared joke, something. Nick Cutter had been accused of being oblivious before, but surely he couldn't have missed this?

And the certainty grew on him that he hadn't. Stephen, his Stephen, would not betray him. It was Helen. Helen knew more about the anomalies than any of them did. Helen had proved that she was utterly ruthless in pursuit of her own goals. And he knew, none better, that she was manipulative. Hell, he'd known that even when they were married.

So. Helen. Helen had taken a more extensive revenge for his rejection than he could ever have believed. She'd taken Stephen, and she'd taken Claudia.

And Nick was determined to get them back. The only question was, how?

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. (See previous for disclaimers, etc.)

Jenny Lewis was a bit of an eye-opener.

It was Claudia's face, but there was none of Claudia's warmth.

That was to be expected. Jenny Lewis was a recent addition to the team. Everyone was wary about her; the unknown element; except Lester. But since he was the one who had hired her, it was not surprising that Lester was enthusiastic about Lewis's presence. Overly enthusiastic?

Professor Nick Cutter swiped a shaky hand across his tired eyes. He had to find a way out of this situation.

And what _was_ his situation? Trapped, yes, trapped in a reality that was 98 true to what he had known. One percent of the remainder was a missing woman; a woman he had cared about; the other one percent was the loss of his closest friend.

Even if Stephen Hart worked alongside him every day of the week in this new world he found himself in, Cutter still could not bring himself to trust the man completely. Why should he? This Stephen Hart had broken every rule of friendship, every decent impulse, every moral code.

And it showed. It showed in Ste-, Hart's belief that Cutter would stand back and let him die. It showed itself in a hundred little ways. Hart didn't seem to notice, much, beyond the revelation of his betrayal. But Cutter did. Every time he looked at Ste-, Hart, he saw the man who had seduced his wife. And every time he felt that knife twist, Cutter had to look away.

He felt quite hopeful when Lester introduced the new PR guru. Once the initial shock of seeing Claudia's face had worn off, Cutter thought he had handled it quite well. He had clung, briefly, to the thought that it was all some elaborate hoax, that _Jenny_ would drop the pretence, and admit she was Claudia. But that hadn't happened. And after seeing Jenny in action, Cutter had to admit that this woman was _not_ Claudia Brown. Jenny Lewis was as scheming as Lester; she was only concerned about her job; there was nothing of Claudia's sense of justice.

In a way it made what he had to do easier. Nick Cutter knew that Claudia, _his_ Claudia, and _his_ Stephen, were out _there_, _somewhere_.

All he had to do was find them.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Time Twister, Chapter 3. See Chapter 1 for disclaimers.

Nick Cutter suffered through three weeks of hell. It was not just the strain of knowing that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time (and oh! How that particularly fatuous expression had tormented him!) But that he was alone, totally alone.

Abby and Connor were themselves, no obvious personality changes. But they were wary of him. Cutter could only suppose that his deranged behaviour at the anomaly had them worried. Hell, it had _him_ worried.

And he wasn't proud of the way he had used his young student to further his own ends. The discovery of the interference in the radio frequencies had been pure luck, as far as he was concerned, and Cutter had used that to bind Connor closer to him. Temple was so pathetically eager for recognition, validation, that he would do anything his Professor told him.

So now, Cutter had a portable anomaly detector. He also had a software program that could detect, and map, every anomaly that popped into existence, wherever it might be.

Cutter clutched the device to his chest. This was just the first step to finding Claudia, and Stephen.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Time Twister, Chapter 4. See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers.

Nick was glad he had gained Connor's confidence, because he never would have been able to hack into the personnel records by himself.

But there it all was; the life of Jenny Lewis. The file held information on her parents, grandparents, schools, college, jobs, everything. Cutter studied it all, convinced that there was something in Jenny's history that would give him a clue. And then he found it. Elated, he dialled the first number that came to mind, the only number that came to mind. It was only when Stephen answered the call that Cutter remembered how many things had changed and how many things were different.

"His Master's Voice," said Helen, lazily enjoying the feel of real sheets for once. She knew Stephen would protest, would bluster that he was no lap-dog, and then would join her in the bed, his bed. It was inevitable; she'd made sure of that. She watched through the mirror as Stephen held up his phone, even breathed Nick's name, and then Stephen turned away, crushed, as the caller hung up. Helen allowed herself a metaphorical pat on the back. Hell, she was good! And she stretched, rubbing herself sinuously against the cotton fibre, ignoring the pain from her injury, turned onto her back and then swept the duvet down her body. Her eyes crinkled in triumph as Stephen's eyes followed her every move and she could see him swallow, nervously.

"Did you miss me, baby?" she said huskily.

Hart glanced between his phone and the woman in his bed. "No."

"What was that, sweetie?" Helen purred, still undulating her hips.

Hart's expression solidified, his eyes hardened, "No, I didn't miss you, Helen. "

Helen chuckled. "Ah, you say that now..."

"And I'll say it again, Helen. I did not grieve when you disappeared, I was glad. Glad! You hear me?!"

Helen froze in place. She was suddenly, acutely aware of her nakedness. And she was equally aware that this encounter was not going to plan. Slowly she slid off the bed, clutching the duvet, and took a tentative step forward.

Stephen backed away from her, "I'm going in to work. Be gone by the time I get back." He turned on his heel and left.

Helen sank back onto the bed with a frustrated snort. No one left her and got away with it. People played by her rules, or they didn't play at all.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Time Twister, Chapter 5. See Chapter 1 for disclaimers.

Nick Cutter took a deep breath before he rang the bell. The street was a neat terrace with parked cars lining the road. There were not many people around and he hoped that the woman he had come to see was in. He heard the scrape of a key and then the door opened. A grey haired woman was eyeing him suspiciously over the chain. Cutter smiled with what he hoped was reassurance and said, "Mrs Lewis? I'm Professor Nick Cutter, I work with your daughter, Jenny. I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

The expression on Mrs Lewis's face changed. She was obviously still suspicious, but now there was worry in her eyes too. "Nothing's happened to Jenny, has it?"

"No, no. Jenny's fine, she's fine. No it was just that Jenny mentioned a friend of the family, from way back and the name seemed familiar. I wanted to ask you about it."

"Do you have some identification?"

"Sure," Cutter took out his wallet and passed over his driver's license and Home Office security pass.

Mrs Lewis looked at it in surprise, "Jenny's working for the Home Office?"

"Well, her firm's got the contract, but yes, she is our main PR officer."

"Good for her," Mrs Lewis handed back the cards, "You'd better come in, Mr Cutter."

Mrs Lewis closed the door and Cutter heard the chain being drawn back. It reopened and Mrs Lewis gestured him in. "Would you care for some tea?" she asked hospitably.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Mrs Lewis showed him into the front room. Cutter glanced quickly around. There were many photographs displayed, including the wedding photo he'd found in the file.

Mrs Lewis settled herself down, "Now, Mr Cutter, how can I help you?"

Cutter went fluidly into his rehearsed story. "I'm trying to trace my aunt, Helen Cutter. The family lost sight of her, oh, for a good many years now. Family feud, you know how it goes. Well, I won't bore you with the details, but my father is quite ill, and he wants to see his sister. When Jenny mentioned, just in passing that her family knew Helen, well, I thought it might be too much of a coincidence, but I haven't had much luck tracing her, so I thought, what do I have to lose?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr Cutter, I'm afraid I don't know any Helen Cutter, never have done."

"But surely, that's her there, at your wedding?"

"No. That woman's name is Helen, but her surname is Marshall, Helen Marshall." Mrs Lewis rose and brought the framed photo over to Cutter. "We met university, back in the sixties. Oh! That was an exciting time! We were going to change the world, me and Helen. Funny isn't it, the ideas you get when you're young. Ah, well, time goes on."

"Do you still keep in touch?"

"No," Mrs Lewis sighed, "I'm afraid Helen died. She was on a skiing holiday, must have been, about three years after Mark and I were married, and, she was caught in an avalanche. It was such a stupid, tragic thing to happen. She should never have been in the area; it was a known danger spot, but that was Helen all over, never let anything beat her. They never even found her body."

"I'm sorry," said Cutter quietly.

"Well, it's a long time ago now."

"Did you know a man named Richard Brown?"

"My, you are well informed! Richard was my first great love. I thought we would spend our lives together."

"What happened?" When Mrs Lewis raised her head in surprise Cutter hastened on, "You must think me very impertinent, but it might be important to know. Did Helen come between you?"

"God, no! Helen was a true friend. No it was Richard; he became suspicious, possessively jealous, convinced I was sleeping around. It might have been the sixties," she added dryly, "but Richard was an old fashioned guy. And it was so frustrating because I really only had eyes for him. But as Helen said, if Richard didn't trust me our lives would be a living hell. Jealousy is such a destructive force, wouldn't you agree, Mr Cutter?"

"Yes, Mrs Lewis, I'd agree wholeheartedly."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Time Twister, Chapter 6. See Chapter 1 for disclaimers.

His chest was heaving, his breath coming in panicked gasps, his legs pumping, and all the time he could hear the crash of broken branches, feel the tremors as the creature pursued him.

He was definitely getting too old for this.

A sharp whistle, off to his right, and Cutter changed direction. With split second timing the steel mesh descended over the dinosaur and as it thrashed impotently in the constricting bonds, the Special Forces troops moved in to pepper it with tranquilizer darts.

Cutter rolled over in the sticky, damp bracken, spitting a few stray leaves from his mouth and accepted the outstretched hand offered to help him up.

"This technique has a lot going for it," said Stephen in a conversational tone, gesturing with his head to where the latest visitor was now sleeping, although still twitching.

"Yeah," Cutter snorted, "and one major drawback," he wheezed.

Hart grinned. "Next time, don't spill the male pheromone serum over yourself when there's a female in the vicinity."

"What d'you mean? 'Next time'?" Cutter said indignantly. But inwardly he was cheering that their friendship seemed to be finally on the mend.

Stephen smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face, "C'mon, let's get sleeping beauty there back to the Arc."

The Arc. Or _The ARC_. Cutter had to admit that the acronym adopted was much better than the _A_nomaly _R_esearch _P_roject. ARC was so much better than ARP. It was fascinating, reading the highly 'Top Secret' documents, now covered in dust, that detailed the 'ARP' founding. And with that knowledge, Cutter hoped to prove his theory, to Stephen if no one else.

Cutter took two cold beers from the fridge and handed one to Stephen who was lolling as far as he was able in one of the office chairs. Stephen nodded in acknowledgement and took a deep gulp closing his eyes in appreciation. Cutter swithered for a moment then perched on the desk corner. This was a very delicate juncture; he did not want the desk to be a barrier between them, but, at the same time, he did not want to appear too informal. What he had to ask was so personal he needed an element of control, but if he was too controlling he would only alienate Hart.

"So," Cutter tried to appear, what? Unconcerned? Nonchalant? Disinterested?

Hart had been enjoying the return of his and Cutter's closeness, revelling in the normality of sharing a drink after stressful events, but the almost strangled tone of his companion had Stephen's senses going into overdrive. Hart's eyes opened immediately to stare at his boss; "What? What is it?"

If Cutter ever had any more doubts about the regard Stephen Hart had for _him_ they were dispelled by Stephen's almost panicked enquiry. "I'm sorry," Nick whispered.

"_You're sorry?_ For what?" Hart still sounded bewildered.

"For not trusting you."

Hart ducked his head slightly, "You were right and I was wrong..."

"I don't mean the search."

"Oh," Stephen risked a quick glance at the Professor's expression but was not reassured by the look of indecision on Cutter's face. He considered what the professor might mean as well as their recent assignments. "Honestly, I didn't say anything to Valerie; I tried to keep her out of all of this!"

"I know you did, Stephen." Cutter sighed.

Stephen blinked, confused, "Then what have _you_ got to be sorry about?" he demanded. "None of this is your fault. None of this is going to reflect on you." Hart cocked his head, "Well, other than disobeying orders, going off on your own..."

"I know that too, Stephen," said Cutter, deliberately repressive. He could not deal with all that guilt again.

"Nick," Stephen's voice was barely more than a whisper, "Whatever you've got to say, say it. I can take it, I'm a big boy." He slumped back in the chair, eyes closing again in defeat.

"Maybe now, but you weren't then, were you?"

Hart's eyes snapped open in shock, his mouth gaping, "You mean Helen, don't you?" Stephen looked away, "You knew? All the time, you knew?" Then he looked back, "No, you didn't know, couldn't know. I didn't want you to know. I saw your face! I saw her eyes! She was laughing, laughing! She wanted you to know, I never wanted you to know, I swear, Nick..."

Cutter launched himself from the table, caught Hart's hands in his and held his forehead against Stephen's. "Stop it. Just, just, stop. Take a breath. Yeah, that's right, and another. Good. Just relax."

Gradually, Hart's breathing slowed, and Cutter rubbed his fingers soothingly. "It's okay," Cutter whispered.

"It's not okay," Stephen snapped, his head coming up defiantly, but almost immediately his expression softened, and his head drooped, "It's never been okay," he added.

"Oh, Stephen," Cutter patted the bowed head, "I just hope you can forgive me."

That comment was sufficiently unexpected that Hart jerked upright, staring at Cutter in astonishment.

"Will you tell me?" Cutter asked.

"Tell you?" said Stephen, incredulously, "Tell you about, about Helen?"

"Please." Cutter nodded.

"Why? What difference can it make?" Stephen's question was anguished.

"It might make all the difference." Cutter said seriously.

And so great was his respect for this man, so deep his regret for the hurt he had caused, Stephen Hart told his Professor everything.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – See Part 1 for disclaimers.

FRESHER'S WEEK, METROPOLITAN CITY UNIVERSITY CAMPUS

Stephen had never felt so alone. Hundreds; literally hundreds of people, scurrying around from dorms to lectures to pubs to clubs to cafes to dorms again. It was all so bewildering. So alien and so confusing. He should be glad; no one here knew him, he could be any one he wanted. Perhaps he could be the life and soul of the party? Only he hadn't yet found a party to be life and soul of. Studious then? No, subject lectures didn't start until the next week. The glamorous one? Stephen regarded the worn jeans and jacket he was wearing. No, not glamorous.

Stephen flitted amongst the groups; queuing for his ID Card, queuing for his timetable, queuing for his grant; and all the time passing the same information; name, subject, previous school, and no he didn't know... whoever, and no, he hadn't been to... wherever, and yes, wasn't it great to be free for once... and yes he would see... whoever at the Union that night.

Well, he'd gone to the Union, and he'd seen the daunting groups of students ranged there. As an anthropology/zoology student there was a wealth of material available for study just in the Union.

That large group by the bar, for instance; three dominant males, four subservient, and at least eight prowling females, not to mention the ones who assayed sorties against the pack. Then the group by the jukebox; established pride, two languid males, three females and either a hanger on, or security. Another set by the door; matriarchal perhaps. Three female, one clearly subservient male...

What was he doing?

This was his chance to shine, his chance to leave behind all the failings of his youth and his family, and what was he doing? Hovering on the outside, looking in, just as he had always done.

Stephen made his way to the bar, ordered the most lethal cocktail on the menu, drank it and chased it back with a pint of something whose name came from pre-Biblical times. Then he sashayed, or more probably staggered, onto the dance floor. There was laughter at him, and unkind jeers at him, and then there was...

... "She said her name was 'Helen', and I said, 'Helen of Troy?' And she said, 'You flatterer', and I said, 'Only if it isn't true' and she said 'It's true', and I said 'What about Paris?' and she said I was Paris and I said 'You know what happens if you anger the gods?' Christ, Nick, please stop me!"

Cutter took Stephen's hand and held it to his shaking head. "It's okay, Stephen. Just, just finish it."

Stephen shuddered and gripped Cutter's hand tightly, "Do you really want to know?" he was almost beseeching.

"Yes, I really want to know," sighed Nick.

Hart gazed into his face and recognised the determination there. Taking a deep breath, Stephen continued, "That was the start of it. In the morning, well, I woke up feeling great." He stared at Cutter with a challenge in his eyes. "What did you feel like when you lost your virginity?"

"Top of the world," Cutter said sadly.

Hart watched him for a moment, his shoulders tense, and then Stephen relaxed and sighed. "Helen was your first too, wasn't she?"

And no matter how intrusive that question was, Cutter knew Stephen deserved an answer. "She was my only." Cutter said.

Hart nodded again, "Figures. Helen never was one to share."

"Yeah," sighed Cutter.

"D'you really want to hear the rest?"

"I need to, Stephen. I'm sorry that it's difficult for you. And believe me, it's difficult for me too, but I need to know."

Hart nodded and resumed.

The Union bar was quiet, the juke box silent, the floor and booths deserted. Stephen looked around apprehensively. Why did Helen want to meet here? Now? Hours before opening time? She was going to dump him, wasn't she? Stephen did not want that to happen. It couldn't. His whole existence centred on Helen. Sure, she was older than him, but her warmth, her caring words, her exotic, intoxicating presence was more than he'd ever thought he deserved. She brought out the best of him; she was so supportive, so willing to listen, and Stephen had never had that.

"There you are!"

Stephen whirled round at the sound of her voice, "Helen," he breathed his smile and took a step forward, only to falter as Helen took a step back into the glare of a spotlight. "Are you okay?"

Helen smiled, "Yes, Stephen, I am very okay."

Stephen relaxed minutely, "You haven't been around, I was worried," he moved forward, ready to embrace his lover, his soul mate, his best friend, but Helen stepped back again, into the shadows. "Helen?"

"Sorry, Stephen, but it's time to move on."

Stephen gaped like a landed fish, "What?" he spluttered.

"My husband is back. I have to be there for him, for now anyway," Helen said dismissively.

"What?" Stephen repeated, and then his brain caught up with what she had just said, "Husband?"

Helen laughed, "Yes, my husband. Dedicated, driven, all of that." She snorted disdainfully, "Well, he shouldn't be surprised that I found distractions elsewhere."

"Distractions?" Stephen couldn't believe he was hearing this.

Helen stepped up to him and stroked his cheek, "Very, nice, distractions, Stephen. You were a lot of fun." Abruptly she turned, grabbed her back pack and strode away.

"Helen!" Stephen stood rooted to the spot. He wanted to go after her, needed to go after her, but his feet wouldn't move, and before he knew what was happening he was on his knees, breath hitching, heart pounding, and wishing that it would just pound its way out of his chest because he sure as hell didn't have a use for it anymore.

"I went back to my dorm, and I, I really thought that it was the end. I didn't want to live without her."

Nick nodded, reminded all too brutally of his own emotions; he had felt the same. Only Stephen's unwavering support had got him through those dark days when he had given in to the despairing thought that Helen was dead rather than missing. Looking at the bowed head before him, realising the hurt radiating off of Stephen, Cutter was totally surprised by the vehement hate that welled up inside him. Helen had done this. Helen had hurt Stephen.

"I cried," Stephen said in broken tones. "Felt like I was crying for hours. Then I felt like a fool." Stephen raised his head, "I built up this glorious romance and I wanted it to be good, perfect. I didn't need anyone else because I was with Helen. When she left, dumped me, there was this gaping hole left in me and I didn't know what to do, except end it."

Cutter's gaze sharpened abruptly, "Stephen," he said in a low voice.

Stephen shied away like a startled horse, "You wanted to know." He said almost with accusation.

Cutter silently agreed.

"Well, it was stupid, okay? But I was upset." Stephen shook his head again. "Sometimes, I can't really believe it happened, but well, it did. I was left with a headache, so I took a couple of pills. They didn't work quick enough, so I took a couple more. They didn't help, so I thought washing them down with whiskey would be better, it wasn't, so I took more." Stephen risked a glance at Cutter and was slightly reassured by the look of horror on his face. "I guess I passed out at some point, but I hadn't taken enough for serious damage. I spent the next day throwing up, big time. When I felt better, I went for a walk. And, Nick, that was the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen. It seemed to take forever. And I realised that no matter what had happened, no matter how lonely I was or how hurt I was, I didn't want my life to end." He chuckled, mirthlessly, "And I ended up outside the Zoology Department, marched straight in and signed up for any and every course I could fit in."

Nick took a deep breath, "I'm glad you did."

Hart grimaced. "You might not be."

Cutter swiftly grabbed Stephen's hand, "I will always be glad you did."

Stephen's head ducked, "But that's when I found out who Helen's husband was," he whispered.

Cutter merely tightened his hold, "Tell me," he said softly.

Hart checked the scrap of paper in his hand for the umpteenth time, correlating what was written there with the room numbers he was passing. They didn't match. And if he went much further he'd end up in the boiler room.

A door scraped open behind him. Stephen whirled crushing the paper in his hand. He saw a spiky headed silhouette glancing up and down the corridor. "You Hart?" a voice demanded.

Stephen nodded dumbly.

"Well get in here," the voice ordered with irritation.

Stephen hurried back to the doorway and stumbled through. The lights were glaring, illuminating several glass cabinets, many paper strewn desks, a sprawling computer and a full sized, though incomplete, 'raptor skeleton. "Wow." Stephen breathed.

His guide turned at the outright wonder he heard in Stephen's voice and Nick Cutter smiled as he held out his hand, "Professor Nick Cutter. Good to have you on board."

Stephen automatically returned the gesture, "This is amazing!"

Cutter chuckled. "I like to think so," he broke off as a door behind them opened, "Ah, here's the light of my life! Helen, Helen, come meet our new research assistant. Stephen Hart, this is my wife and confidante, Helen Cutter. Helen's just had her thesis passed. By the end of the month the sign on the door will read the 'Professor_s_' Cutter." Proudly he slipped an arm around Helen's waist. Helen leaned comfortably into his touch.

Stephen blinked, "Helen?"

"That's right," Helen said pleasantly. She held out her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hart. I'm sure you'll enjoy working with us."

"She never said a word. It was like all we had shared never existed. Sometimes I got so frustrated I wanted to punch you, or kiss her or leave," Stephen took a breath, "And then she disappeared. At first I thought she was hiding out, but that didn't make sense. Why would she need to? She'd never come near me while you were around. You obviously didn't know. And I wanted to keep it that way. I'm sorry, Professor, but I did. Her indifference to me was just the icing on the cake. I knew I'd never meant anything to her. But I wanted to mean something to you. You encouraged me, every step of the way. I wouldn't have finished my degree without your support. And all the time I had this huge secret, and I couldn't tell you! I couldn't." Stephen collapsed back in the chair. "I'm sorry, so, so sorry. I never wanted you to find out."

Cutter swallowed over a dry throat. "That's kind of what I thought."

"You what?"

"I know _you_, Stephen. You would never betray me like that. And you didn't. Not really."

"How can you say that? I slept with your wife!"

"You didn't know she was my wife, and neither did she."

Hart blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"Think about it, Stephen. Think about what you just said. The Helen that we knew, together, never had an affair with you. The woman that you had an affair with was from this time. She wanted to hurt me, teach me a lesson, take you away from me. And she almost succeeded."

"What are you saying?"

"Helen played us. She saw that I was getting close to Claudia and she stopped it by making sure Claudia was never born. She saw that you were loyal to me and she tried to separate us. It nearly worked too."

"This is crazy!" Stephen exclaimed. "Do you realise what you are saying?"

"Oh, yes," Cutter said serenely, "The question is, do you?"

Hart regarded the Professor with wide eyes, "I'm not sure."

Cutter's face split in a predatory grin, "Helen has her own agenda, I want to shake it up, but I need your help."

"How?"

"Can you let Helen manipulate you again?"

"No," Hart shook his head in denial, "Oh no, no, no."

"Yes." Cutter stated implacably.

FIN, for now.

Thanks for your reviews; I've appreciated your encouragement. This is not the end. But neither is this the story I set out to write. Kudos to the series' writers for making 'Jenny Lewis' just as essential as Claudia Brown was. I knew it was a mistake to keep watching week by week; I should have just written the story, taped the series and then kicked back and enjoyed the ride. But I didn't. I had to find some justification for Hart's betrayal. I need my heroes heroic and without clay feet. Besides tonight's teaser was just – epic! If they kill him off, I'll bring him back, I can do that! And don't you want to know who 'he' is? Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

Time Twister; Redux

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimers and all.

Spoilers; Minor for the opening of Season 3, but I feel an alternate take coming on, mainly because although I love dinosaurs I'm too lazy to do research so I'm going to go for the thriller element. I hope I hit it. Enjoy.

A/N; Thanks to all of those readers who have enjoyed this series, and especially those who have taken the time to review. I hope that I managed to reply to you all; if not, my apologies and I'll try to to better in the future... or should that be the past?

*************

The headstone was the final straw. If it had been left to Lester Stephen's grave would have been unmarked, anywhere. But neither Cutter, nor Temple, nor Maitland, or even Lewis when it came down to it, would contemplate that travesty. So, there was a grave, even if it was mostly empty. There hadn't been much to recover after...

Cutter massaged his neck, more in hope that it would help, rather than any belief it would soothe him.

No. Stephen was gone. And Helen had killed him. Yes, she had.

**************************

Nick Cutter lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

It was an ordinary ceiling, painted white, in an ordinary room, painted magnolia (magnolia!), in an ordinary house, in an ordinary street...

Cutter squirmed onto his side and looked out the window...

Ordinary road, ordinary trees, ordinary suburb...

Outside, well, outside was different...

The phone rang shrilly...

"Cutter. Yes. I'm on my way."

*****************************

The British Museum!

Home to so many artefacts and stories, and nightmares, not just Connor's either. Cutter had his own nightmares about Egyptian Mummies rising; the Royal Scottish Museum in Chamber Street was just as capable of scaring the punters as the London equivalent; but now he had confirmation.

How arrogant they had been. They, he, had assumed one way traffic; even after the future-creature, even after Ms Brown had become Ms Lewis, he still had not made the connection.

The anomalies linked from the prehistoric past to...

... all times in _their_ future.

******************************************

The boy was scared, no doubt about that, but he kept telling himself to be brave, to be strong, just like his dad; to be, what was the word? Invincible. And as the moon set and the woods got quieter and louder at the same time, Stevie Hart hunkered down against the tree and wished for someone, anyone to find him.

********************************************

TBC


End file.
